Post by starchilde on Oct 1, 2009 19:34:06 GMT -5
Let me know what you think!
-Scott
PS - just to let you know, the "bad word" filters here have replaced "s-p-o-o-n" with "sthingy." Very strange...
CHAOS UNDIVIDED, OR DO YOU MEAN UNDECIDED?
By Scott D. Mawhiney
The golden light of twin suns filtered down through beautifully puffy white clouds, shining in brilliant pools that lazily moved across the wind swept grass. The air that pushed and pulled at the grass in such delightful ways was delicately scented from the fields of flowers growing all around, and felt to the skin like a lovely warm bath, but without too much humidity. Small furry animals cavorted and scurried to and fro, while exotically colored insects fluttered by. All in all, it was just another perfect summer’s day on Angelis Marjoram IV.
Chaos Lord Malignus “Death Dealer” Izrail sighed heavily. He loathed this place.
“When do we get to go kill something again?!” whined the nasally voice of Gar’goth’kll – a weapon-bound daemon – inside Izrail’s head. Gar’goth’kll often interrupted Lord Izrail’s most disparaging moments of solitude like this. It made the Lord’s teeth ache.
Malignus sighed again. “After we finish subjugating the population of this…place.” The last word dripped off his tongue with the most bitter of disgust.
“That shouldn’t take more that fifteen minutes. I mean the most resistance we’ve run into here was when the village elder shrugged his shoulders at us,” whined the daemon. Malignus had to agree, there was hardly any sport to conquering a sunny planet full of contented, subservient farmers.
“It’s not like Vraks,” Izrail mused wistfully. The daemon snorted psychically making Malignus’ eye teeth hurt in a particularly painful manner. “Don’t start with me! My troops were slaughtered to a man by a platoon of crack Elysian Drop…”
“Cooks and toiletry specialists.” Gar’goth’kll chimed in finishing Malignus’ statement. “You know, that lie might have worked on those idiots, the Great War Council, but I’m not buying it. Besides, you ran like a little schoolgirl when that fat cook came after you with his sthingy.”
“It was a power sthingy.” Malignus glowered as he kicked away a small cute fuzzy creature that was nuzzling his armored boot. “He could have killed me. Besides, I’ve been able to replace all those men with a far superior force.”
“Oh really?” taunted the daemon.
“Yes, REALLY! I have a perfect, undivided chaos force composed of worshipers of every single chaos god,” Izrail angrily retorted. He started to tick points off on his gauntleted fingers. “There are Nurgle marines, Slaanesh marines, Tzeentch terminators. I even have some Khorne berserkers.”
Lord Izrail could feel the daemon smiling. “Let’s take that argument one point at a time, shall we? First off, those so-called ‘Khorne Berserkers’ of yours.”
“The Warriors of Kbas are brilliant fighters – every last one of them!” Malignus huffed self-righteously.
“You do realize that K.B.A.S. is an acronym, yes?” The daemon queried in a most condescending tone. “It stands for ‘Khorne Berserker Appreciation Society,’ and while they may make delicious watercress sandwiches for their bi-weekly meetings, they hardly qualify as World Eaters. Paper Mache and cardboard horns on their helmets and stern indignation will not match a good old-fashioned berserker bloodlust.”
“Well, at least they brought along a Defiler. And it is definitely Khornate.” Malignus smiled just as bit with that last verbal jab.
“Just because someone votes you into a club and welds a Khorne symbol onto you does not make you Khornate.” Gar’goth’kll responded coolly. “Now about those Slaanesh marines you recruited. Aren’t the real ones known as Noise Marines?”
“Yes.” Izrail said haltingly.
“Have you ever noticed that yours are mute? That would make them ‘Noiseless Marines,’ I do believe.” Gar’goth’kll chuckled at his own joke.
“Huh.” Lord Izrail paused for a moment and wondered if that was the reason they never responded when called during the morning roll. He’d always thought it was a Slaanesh-y ‘thing’ to be quiet in the morning, simply from being hung over from all the partying they had done the night before. “Well, I will have to admit…”
The daemon cut him off. “As to the Nurgle element you brought in. You could have gotten Death Guard, or The Purge, or Lords of Decay, or half a dozen other war bands. But no, you chose to hire The Knights of Gingivitis. Need I say more?”
“Well, they do work cheap.” Lord Izrail stammered.
“And speaking of costs, let’s talk about just how much you spent hiring those Tzeentch terminators – which AREN’T filled with sand, like proper Tzeentch terminators should be.” Preened the daemon.
The lord became indignant at this regard. “Look, when I teleport into hand-to-hand combat I prefer to have hardened, close-combat specialists with me...”
“To act as ablative armor? Yes, I’ve noticed a tendency for you to stand behind those you’re leading.” Gar’goth’kll was becoming quite smug at this point.
“Look you!” the Lord blustered.
“Now, just two last things: the unaligned members of your army. The Raptors I’ll forgo since I’ve never seen them actually make it into combat…EVER!” The daemon taunted. “And those other marines you picked up before coming here. Now I will admit, for being unaligned a name like, The Undecided, is quite clever but…”
“They had a possessed vindicator and we were desperate for short ranged fire support! Besides…” Malignus grew sheepish again. “The Warriors of Kbas asked politely if The Undecided could join. I think their defiler has a thing for the vindicator.”
“That’s sick, even by daemon standards.” Mocked Gar’goth’kll. “Now I reiterate my first statement: when do we get to go kill something again?”
As the twin suns of Angelis Marjoram IV began to set, they cast orange-gold rays across the verdant grass plains. The air was deliciously warm, but slightly cooler than before and smelled of thousands of beautiful flowers. A group of small, large-eyed, furry animals lingered, playing in the fading sun. It was the end of another perfect summer day.
Chaos Lord Malignus “Death Dealer” Izrail sighed heavily. He loathed this place, his daemon possessed weapon, and his whole miserable life. He especially loathed the way his teeth ached. The misery made him smile a little.
“Load up the troops,” he hissed, “I feel the need to make the Galaxy burn. Now!”
-Scott
PS - just to let you know, the "bad word" filters here have replaced "s-p-o-o-n" with "sthingy." Very strange...
CHAOS UNDIVIDED, OR DO YOU MEAN UNDECIDED?
By Scott D. Mawhiney
The golden light of twin suns filtered down through beautifully puffy white clouds, shining in brilliant pools that lazily moved across the wind swept grass. The air that pushed and pulled at the grass in such delightful ways was delicately scented from the fields of flowers growing all around, and felt to the skin like a lovely warm bath, but without too much humidity. Small furry animals cavorted and scurried to and fro, while exotically colored insects fluttered by. All in all, it was just another perfect summer’s day on Angelis Marjoram IV.
Chaos Lord Malignus “Death Dealer” Izrail sighed heavily. He loathed this place.
“When do we get to go kill something again?!” whined the nasally voice of Gar’goth’kll – a weapon-bound daemon – inside Izrail’s head. Gar’goth’kll often interrupted Lord Izrail’s most disparaging moments of solitude like this. It made the Lord’s teeth ache.
Malignus sighed again. “After we finish subjugating the population of this…place.” The last word dripped off his tongue with the most bitter of disgust.
“That shouldn’t take more that fifteen minutes. I mean the most resistance we’ve run into here was when the village elder shrugged his shoulders at us,” whined the daemon. Malignus had to agree, there was hardly any sport to conquering a sunny planet full of contented, subservient farmers.
“It’s not like Vraks,” Izrail mused wistfully. The daemon snorted psychically making Malignus’ eye teeth hurt in a particularly painful manner. “Don’t start with me! My troops were slaughtered to a man by a platoon of crack Elysian Drop…”
“Cooks and toiletry specialists.” Gar’goth’kll chimed in finishing Malignus’ statement. “You know, that lie might have worked on those idiots, the Great War Council, but I’m not buying it. Besides, you ran like a little schoolgirl when that fat cook came after you with his sthingy.”
“It was a power sthingy.” Malignus glowered as he kicked away a small cute fuzzy creature that was nuzzling his armored boot. “He could have killed me. Besides, I’ve been able to replace all those men with a far superior force.”
“Oh really?” taunted the daemon.
“Yes, REALLY! I have a perfect, undivided chaos force composed of worshipers of every single chaos god,” Izrail angrily retorted. He started to tick points off on his gauntleted fingers. “There are Nurgle marines, Slaanesh marines, Tzeentch terminators. I even have some Khorne berserkers.”
Lord Izrail could feel the daemon smiling. “Let’s take that argument one point at a time, shall we? First off, those so-called ‘Khorne Berserkers’ of yours.”
“The Warriors of Kbas are brilliant fighters – every last one of them!” Malignus huffed self-righteously.
“You do realize that K.B.A.S. is an acronym, yes?” The daemon queried in a most condescending tone. “It stands for ‘Khorne Berserker Appreciation Society,’ and while they may make delicious watercress sandwiches for their bi-weekly meetings, they hardly qualify as World Eaters. Paper Mache and cardboard horns on their helmets and stern indignation will not match a good old-fashioned berserker bloodlust.”
“Well, at least they brought along a Defiler. And it is definitely Khornate.” Malignus smiled just as bit with that last verbal jab.
“Just because someone votes you into a club and welds a Khorne symbol onto you does not make you Khornate.” Gar’goth’kll responded coolly. “Now about those Slaanesh marines you recruited. Aren’t the real ones known as Noise Marines?”
“Yes.” Izrail said haltingly.
“Have you ever noticed that yours are mute? That would make them ‘Noiseless Marines,’ I do believe.” Gar’goth’kll chuckled at his own joke.
“Huh.” Lord Izrail paused for a moment and wondered if that was the reason they never responded when called during the morning roll. He’d always thought it was a Slaanesh-y ‘thing’ to be quiet in the morning, simply from being hung over from all the partying they had done the night before. “Well, I will have to admit…”
The daemon cut him off. “As to the Nurgle element you brought in. You could have gotten Death Guard, or The Purge, or Lords of Decay, or half a dozen other war bands. But no, you chose to hire The Knights of Gingivitis. Need I say more?”
“Well, they do work cheap.” Lord Izrail stammered.
“And speaking of costs, let’s talk about just how much you spent hiring those Tzeentch terminators – which AREN’T filled with sand, like proper Tzeentch terminators should be.” Preened the daemon.
The lord became indignant at this regard. “Look, when I teleport into hand-to-hand combat I prefer to have hardened, close-combat specialists with me...”
“To act as ablative armor? Yes, I’ve noticed a tendency for you to stand behind those you’re leading.” Gar’goth’kll was becoming quite smug at this point.
“Look you!” the Lord blustered.
“Now, just two last things: the unaligned members of your army. The Raptors I’ll forgo since I’ve never seen them actually make it into combat…EVER!” The daemon taunted. “And those other marines you picked up before coming here. Now I will admit, for being unaligned a name like, The Undecided, is quite clever but…”
“They had a possessed vindicator and we were desperate for short ranged fire support! Besides…” Malignus grew sheepish again. “The Warriors of Kbas asked politely if The Undecided could join. I think their defiler has a thing for the vindicator.”
“That’s sick, even by daemon standards.” Mocked Gar’goth’kll. “Now I reiterate my first statement: when do we get to go kill something again?”
As the twin suns of Angelis Marjoram IV began to set, they cast orange-gold rays across the verdant grass plains. The air was deliciously warm, but slightly cooler than before and smelled of thousands of beautiful flowers. A group of small, large-eyed, furry animals lingered, playing in the fading sun. It was the end of another perfect summer day.
Chaos Lord Malignus “Death Dealer” Izrail sighed heavily. He loathed this place, his daemon possessed weapon, and his whole miserable life. He especially loathed the way his teeth ached. The misery made him smile a little.
“Load up the troops,” he hissed, “I feel the need to make the Galaxy burn. Now!”
